Total Drama 2: Electric Boogawallet
by xdfxv
Summary: A wacky fic as the title suggests, this story chronicles the cruel agonies of one Thelonius J Hatchet and his quest for revenge, dragging contestants along to steal a wallet from the tyrannical tyrant Chris McLean. A Secret Santa fic for my awesome buddy Animation Adventures :D
**Happy end of April, Karts! I'm your SS! *throws confetti***

 **Man, your prompts were fun to think of, but I had some fun ideas for the wallet one, so here it is! This is pretty goofy though, so I hope you weren't expecting something serious, hahaha. Either way, I really hope you enjoy it half as much as I enjoyed writing ITT, because then I'd have had twice as much fun!**

 **...yeah, anyway, on with the fic!**

* * *

It was a beautiful day at the Playa des Losers, and bustling as ever. As Total Drama and Ridonculous Race were created by the same network, the Playa was used in order to keep all contestants that were eliminated from either show around. And, naturally, since it was a paradise where you could do whatever you want and basically have unfortunate interns be your servants, no one wanted to leave. Heck, even Dwayne's wife and Kelly's husband chose to join their families. Of course, those still needing to go to school went to school, but the Playa was too good to pass up.

And on this particular day, which took place during Spring Break, everyone was having a blast. Couples made out in the hot tub. Jocks worked out (or tried to, but kept getting injured in multiple and hilarious ways-but this was a problem only affecting the jocks who were male and names were Tyler). The geeks were having a Street Fighter tournament, which of course led to problems in their clique because Harold was convinced that Decapre ruined the franchise, and Sam tried telling him her personality and backstory made her more than a Cammy clone, which made Heather yell to both of them from the hot tub that no one cared about Street Fighter, leading Cody to try and get everyone to play Dead or Alive. Luckily the two Island vets were on the debate team in high school, and Sam actually won the first round, so no one was too upset.

In fact, on this day, only two people were upset: the strange emo being what lived in the basement (who will be relevant later, dear reader), and one Thelonious J. Hatchet, though everyone just called him Chef. Now, our dear Chef was rather upset that a certain boss of his was withholding some very important items from him, and he was going to get them, come hell or high water.

Chef arrived at Chris McLean's private suite, and kicked the door down in one fell swoop, making the suite not as private anymore.

Chris looked up from his magazine, only looking mildly irritated. "Really, dude? This is the fourth door this month!"

"And it ain't gonna be the last!" Chef strode to the fancy glass table Chris had his feet resting on, slamming his fist down angrily. Chris mentally patted himself on the back for getting shatterproof glass, as he did every time Chef pulled this bull. Which was incredibly often. He also made sure to clamp a hand on top of his wallet, which Chef noticed.

Chef jabbed a large finger at his employer, face contorted into a snarl. "Where is my paycheck, McLean?! It's been overdue for two days now!"

Chris shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back on his tiger skin couch. "Do I look like a bank? I don't know."

" _Argh_! This happens every other paycheck!" Chef was this close to flipping over that table and seeing which would be faster-breaking it or every bone in Chris' body.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you not paid off enough by getting to live in this resort? To have an excuse for the feds to not come after you for that little felony from 1986?"

"It was legal at the time!"

"Well it isn't now. Neither is threatening one of Canada's most valuable resources." He gestured to himself. "My people will call your people. _Ohhh_ wait…that's _right_. You don't _have_ any people." He laughed at that, thinking that comeback was funny for some reason, and took a drink of his San Pellegrino sparkling water. That's right. He drank sparkling water without any kind of flavor to it. That monster.

Chef left the private suite, silent as the plague. He made it all the way down the stairs, out to the backyard, out past the tennis court recently installed. People who he passed remember seeing his face grow redder and redder, and Izzy swore she could see steam come out of his ears and hear the steam screeching. But of course this is Izzy we're talking about. Her eyewitness accounts are unreliable at best.

Finally, as Chef found himself out past that tennis court, the rage of mistreatment for six seasons (or five, if you're one of those people who will go to the grave correcting people by saying PI is just season five, part two), and the basic feeling of irritation at having to deal with a high strung celebrity (which, to be fair, everyone who ever met Chris McLean could sympathize with), finally boiled him to a breaking point. With a loud cry, Chef Hatchet finally snapped.

" _ **MCLEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAN!**_ "

The thunderous roar of a certain reality TV host's name echoed through the halls of the Playa des Losers, and was heard by all. Couples heard it as they made out in the hot tub. The jocks heard it as they worked out. The geeks heard it as they were in the middle of a Street Fighter tournament. The Goths heard it as they…well, you get the idea. It was pretty damn loud. But what else could you expect from Chef Hatchet?

"Uh-oh," Owen said, hearing the yell. "Chef sounds angry…"

Noah looked up from his book for a brief second, then turned his attention back to his book. "Anger is Chef's default emotion. I wouldn't worry about it."

Oh, but Noah should've worried, quite a bit actually. For Chef was beyond the point of angry. He was livid. He was enraged. And now…now he had a deep, dark desire for revenge. And all those poor, foolish contestants were going to help him make Chris pay-literally.

"ATTEN- _SHUN_!" Chef called out. His voice was heard even still. "EVERY CONTESTANT BETTER BE AT THE TENNIS COURT RIGHT NOW, OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES! MOVE IT, MAGGOTS!"

Now, even with a good portion of the cast being a few letters short of an alphabet, everyone knew better than inciting Chef's wrath, and they all came running in record speed. Chef glared at them all, and not even the most fearless would dare make a sound.

Finally, Chef started pacing. "It has come to my attention," he said, voice still loud, but now less furious.

"That we all have one thing in common: a deep, deep love of money. I mean, why did y'all sign up for these seasons, huh? To make friends? Naw, man! Y'all want those sweet, sweet dollar bills."  
Everyone relaxed slightly, realizing Chef wasn't mad at them. In fact, many nodded, a few muttering words of agreement.

Chef nodded, still pacing in front of the crowd. "And you know what? I honestly relate to y'all. You poor, poor folks, having to tear each other to pieces. Kissing each other's boyfriends. Getting allergic reactions. Almost dying multiple times. For what? So one person can win it all? It ain't right!"

People were getting more into it. Someone yelled, "Down with capitalism!" earning the response, "Junior, shhh!"

"And, we have ourselves a celebrity in our midst! A snake of the one percent, dangling money in our poor stupid faces! Is that fair?!"

"No!" They were eating out of his hand.

He grinned madly. "No! It's not! We are going to make Chris McLean pay-literally!"

* * *

No one really had any idea what they had gotten themselves into, until Chef explained.

"Y'all are gonna steal Chris' wallet," he said. "You have until eighteen hundred hours tomorrow to take it, and whoever has it by that time gets to keep all the money in it! Use whatever means necessary to keep it away from him! Understood?"

Unfortunately, not everyone was too keen on stealing as a means of revenge. The older contestants backed out, as did their kids. The Vegans and Sanders also backed out, the latter getting into a nice, long fight with her partner about codes of honor as a result. DJ, Ella and Cameron dropped out on the terms that their mommas raised them not to steal. Which left, well, everyone else.

"Okay," Chef said. "Y'all ready?"

"YEAH!"

"On your marks…

Get set…

…

…

...

GO GO GO!"

* * *

 **6:02 PM**

Chris sniffed as he dabbed at his eye with a tissue, the show on television moving him yet again. Like always, he recited the line that he had learned by heart.

"It's a color war, Paulette. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

He didn't hear her answer, as from his window came a CRASH! A blur of green and orange was the last thing he saw before he crashed to the ground. A few seconds later, he sat up, groaning as he rubbed his head. "What the-?! HEY!"

To his horror, Chris found Izzy staring at him with what could only be described as a DreamWorks face, his fat black leather wallet in her hand. "Hahahahaha! Oh man! This is too easy! I'd say it's like stealing candy from a baby, but that's actually really hard!"

"What the heck?! Izzy-Escope-whatever your name is now, give me that back!" He lunged for the wallet, but from the broken window came a somersaulting ball of gray that landed on his head in perfect gymnastic pose, glaring at Izzy.

"Man, you work fast, huh?" Sky asked the redhead, fists clenched.

Izzy nodded. "Sure do!"

The gymnast cracked her knuckles. "Good thing I'm just as fast. Now, hand me that wallet or I use force!"

"Uhh…how abooouuut…I _don't_ hand you the wallet, and you say hello to MY little friend?!" Izzy put two fingers to her mouth and whistled.

Suddenly Eva came barreling in, a mad look in her eye. "You're dead, girlie!" She cried, chasing Sky around the suite, Chris lying unconscious on the ground. Izzy laughed. Telling Eva lies about every contestant stealing her stuff was such a smart thing to do. Though she would need to find a new hiding place for all the stuff she stole…oh well. Izzy decided to focus more on her new pal Kirkpatrick, which she named the wallet that was no longer in her hand.

Wait…what?!

Izzy gasped. "Wait! Kirkpatrick! Where are you?! We had something special!" She ran out of the room, Sky and Eva following behind, leaving Chris on the floor, still out cold.

Meanwhile, running down the stairs, Duncan laughed proudly, wallet in hand. "Rule number one: never mess with a seasoned pickpocket," he gloated. Now to just hide out until this whole thing blew over and-

"Duncan. Why am I not surprised."

Duncan skidded to a halt, turning to find Scarlett, in bun and glasses, staring at him with a raised, disapproving eyebrow. "Hey there, megalomaniac. The wallet is mine, and you aren't touching it!"

"Oh, I don't need to. Everyone else will do that for me."

"What?!"

Scarlett shook her head. "Oh, Duncan. You fool. Out of everyone here, who has the largest criminal record?"

Duncan chuckled, crossing his arms proudly. "Duh, yours truly. And I'm damn proud of it, too!"

"Of course. And obviously, someone with your skill would easily be able to acquire said wallet, yes?"

"Uh, yeah? I mean, I got it right here." He held up the wallet, shaking it proudly.

"Mhm. Well, Duncan. Who do you think everyone will target? Hunt down? Who here is most likely to be the biggest threat in this type of competition, therefore the one everyone needs to destroy?"

"Well that would be…" Duncan paused. "O-ho! I see what you're trying to do! Use psychology to get me to give you the wallet, huh? It's not that easy, four eyes!"

Scarlett sighed, adjusting your glasses. "Indeed, you seem to have figured out my scheme. However…you neglected to consider Plan B."

"Plan B-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Duncan squealed in pain as Scarlett kicked him in his goods, grabbing the wallet and slipping away, laughing evilly as he rolled on the floor in pain.

"Mwahahahaha! Now, to eliminate my other targets! This will be easy as-!"

 _WHAM!_

* * *

 **9:27 PM**

"Uuuggghhhhh…." Chris woke up, head pounding. What the heck happened? One minute, he had been watching his Camp Pining Hearts in peace, the next, he was waking up with a splitting headache and tied to a chair-

Hold on.

"What…?" Sure enough, Chris was tied to a chair, in the basement. The unusually neat, clean basement. Linkin Park was playing in the background. Chris sighed. Damn freeloading emos.

"Well, hello, Chris." Out stepped a hooded figure, face hidden in the shadow of their cloak. "Perhaps you know me as the Strange Emo Figure what Lives-"

"Hello, Dave," Chris sighed.

Dave pulled his hood off. "W-wait…how did you know I was-"

"Dude, I would recognize that whiny voice anywhere." Chris rolled his eyes. "Look, can you untie me? I need to get my wallet."

"Oh…you mean… _this_ wallet?!" Dave cried, revealing the item.

Chris gasped. "But how did YOU get it?!"

"Oh, it was not easy. It took skill. Precision. Strategy." Actually, it took none of those things. Dave couldn't bring himself to confess that he had opened the door to the basement just as Scarlett ran by.

Chris snorted. "You make one sucky villain, dude. Now untie me and give me my wallet!"

"No! It's mine! All mine! And no one can take it from me!"

"Wanna bet?" Suddenly the Linkin Park stopped playing, the entire basement went dark. Dave gasped in terror. "Who…who's there?!"

A voice got to his ear. A deep, super sexy voice like omfg how hot that voice is. "Your worst nightmare."

Dave screamed, but not because of the voice.

The last thing he wanted was saliva in his ear.

* * *

Alejandro shuddered.

"What's your problem?" Heather asked, looking at her boyfriend in confusion.

"Eh, nothing, mi Amor. I think I just felt the sensation of a wannabe villain realizing how much of a failure they are, and ending up getting defeated anticlimactically."

"Ugh, wannabe villains." She rolled her eyes. "Gag me with a spoon."

As if on cue, Alejandro snaked his arm around Heather's waist. "I would rather gag you with a kiss, my sweet."

"And I would rather die than hear a lame line like that again," she snapped, pushing him off. "Now come on. We need to find that wallet."

"But, I do not understand. Why look for a meager wallet, when both of us are very rich?"

Heather rolled her eyes. "Um, duh! I don't want anyone else to have it! Being rich isn't fun if you can't rub it in poor people's faces!"

"My my, such cruel words!" Alejandro licked his lips. "As if I did not love you enough already."

Heather looked away to keep herself from blushing, then paused, shushing Alejandro. "Do you hear that?"

"No?"

Heather snuck over to a small window on the bottom of the Playa, which opened to the basement.

"That Strange Emo Freakazoid usually plays Mindless Self Indulgence right now. This is not that, like, at all." She made a face. "What even IS this?!"

Alexandro listened in. "That Handsome Devil? What strange music for an emo to listen to. I would brand that as Goth music, but…"

"Goths!" Heather gasped, pulling out her phone and using the flashlight to see into the window. Sure enough, Crimson and Ennui were sitting there, the only light being candles, Dave and Chris tied up in a corner. On the table sat a wallet. "Ugh! I am NOT losing to a bunch of knock-off Gwens!" She started to get up, but Alejandro grabbed her shoulder.

"Patience, mi Vida," he said. "We need to wait until morning."

"What?! Why?!"

"Goths are nocturnal. We wait for them to sleep in the morning, then take our wallet. Simple as that."

Heather sighed, sitting down with a huff. "You better be right…"

They sat in silence for a while, until deciding to make out. After all, they had all night.

* * *

 **2:22 AM**

Actually, no they did not have all night. For you see, with a house full of eighty something people, and a majority of those eighty something people looking for a wallet, chances are one of those eighty something people will find out where said wallet is. And, as luck would have it (or unluck, for our OG Daters/Haters), someone had happened to walk outside at 2 AM, only to find Heather and Alejandro snuggled up to each other, asleep by the tiny window. Apparently the energy they would have used to stay awake went into making out, and now they slept, blissfully unaware that they were about to lose the wallet to a stranger.

Quietly, carefully, the person snuck into the basement, tiptoeing as it appeared that the excitement of finding the wallet meant that the Goths turned in before dawn tonight (that and it was a half moon, the most ungoth moon of all). Chris and Dave the emo were asleep as well, despite being tied up. Finding both of them tedious, the person decided to leave the two tied up and instead quietly picked up the wallet and slipping away from the basement.

Whistling a victory tune, Beverly Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way (oh yeah, his full name is far more embarrassing than his first) slipped the wallet into his pocket and made his way back to his room. As he walked, he thought of how much of a turn on money would be to a certain moonchild, especially if it meant buying her cool stuff off the Pyramid Collection.

As he was envisioning himself in a hot tub with Dawn like all the other cool couples at the Playa, B suddenly heard a _snap_ as a rope caught around his ankle…

…and another _snap_ as the booby trap broke like the flimsy piece of crap it was.

"Dang it!" Scott popped up from behind an overturned table, glaring at the silent fellow. "That trap was perfect! You're too fat, do you know that? Not even the pigs at home are fat as you and those damn traps always work on them!"

B didn't pay attention to what Scott was saying, as he was too busy having flashbacks of his time on Wawanakwa where Scott screwed him over. But what he really remembered was that he had gotten poor, angelic, pure Dawn into a garbage bag. She could have _died_ because of this dirt farming dirtbag!

"Man, how did you even fit into the catapult anyway? You should've broken it or-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

B tackled Scott out of nowhere, his crazy powerful love of Dawn turning him into a very violent man. Meanwhile, in a nearby room Lindsay and Beth were having a sleepover, listening to Katy Perry and doing each other's' nails. From outside they heard the scream and crash.

"Beth!" Lindsay gasped. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah!" Beth replied. "It sounded like a flat character was given an out of nowhere character trait by a lame fanfic author in order to provide comedy, and to sneak in a ship a really awesome person likes!"

Lindsay blinked, not understanding. But then again, Lindsay couldn't figure her way out of a wet paper bag, no way could she figure out a fourth wall break. Either way, both girls were curious, so they opened the door to see B and Scott wrestling, something in their hands…

"The wallet!" Beth cried.

Lindsay clapped her hands together. "OMG! Beth! We could, like, totally go on a shopping spree with that!"

"We could!" Beth lit up, then slumped her shoulders. "But there's no way we can get it from those two. They're both so strong…"

Lindsay pouted, but then got an idea. "She's all that!"

"What?"

"The movie She's All That! When the nerdy main character took off her glasses and let her hair down, and the main guy saw how pretty she was!"

Beth grinned. "Oh my gosh, that's a great idea! But will it work?"

"Totally! I just need to take off my glasses and let my hair down!" Lindsay reached for her face, and furrowed her brow, not feeling any glasses. "Wait…did I already take them off? Huh!" Lindsay skipped merrily to the boys, posing as if she were a model. "Yoohooooo~!"

The boys were too busy wrestling and not being into Lindsay to care, and Lindsay assumed they were playing hard to get and continued posing. Beth, meanwhile, was feeling a bit sad because she had hoped to get to pull the She's All That bit, considering she had her hair in a ponytail and had glasses on. Heck, just for fun, she took out her ponytail and removed her glasses…

"Woah." Scott was staring straight at Beth, his grip on the wallet totally loose. B snatched it away, but Scott didn't care. He got up (he had been on top of B trying to pry his fingers off the prize) and walked to Beth. "I never realized how…how hot you are."

B raised an eyebrow, confused as to how anyone could find someone who wasn't Dawn a desirable mate, but Beth was too caught up in having a guy (a bad boy, no less, which she had always found hot) into her to care. "Reeeeaaaaally?"

"Oh yeah!" In fact, the dirt farmer was so distracted by Beth's, um, _beauty_ , and Lindsay was so distracted by first her posing, then a shiny thing (which was actually just light reflecting off a mirror) that B was able to sneak away from the weird situation he had found himself in. Unfortunately he found that his small problemo had upgraded into a big problemo, as the _entire rest of the cast_ stood in the hallway, glaring at him and the wallet in his hand. B glanced down at it and quickly put it behind his back, taking off as fast as his chubby legs could allow.

"After him!" Someone with a very shrill and Courtney-esque voiced shrieked, and everyone pounced. In an attempt to impress his girlfriend, Ryan leapt into the air to tackle B, but the same girl he was trying to impress jumped onto his head and used the momentum to get onto B's shoulders, wrapping her legs around his neck (or where his neck would be if he had one), and Stephanie started choking Silent B with her thighs in order to get the wallet. Unfortunately for her, Jo came up and punched her in the small of her back, causing Stephanie to fall forward, along with B, who was lightheaded from lack of oxygen and therefore easy to knock down.

Jo reached down for the wallet, but LeShawna soon joined into the fray, and she unleashed what can only be described as a can of whoopass on the jockette, and Harold grabbed the wallet, taking off in order to help his bodacious girlfriend. He did not get far. Izzy jumped in front of him, dropkicking the hapless nerd in the chest and sending him flying. As the wallet slipped from one skinny ginger to another skinny ginger, Izzy ran off to make her getaway out of the window, but tripped on none other than one of the Adversity Twins, who was in a fetal position on the ground because he was in close proximity to Leonard, who was trying to use "dragon feathers" to charm the wallet to him, and they were actually chicken feathers, and those gave this particular twin a bad case of hives. And Izzy tripping on him sent her flying out the window and probably broke a couple of his ribs because he's so darn fragile.

Macarthur was the first out the window, followed by the Ice Dancers, then everyone else. As they all landed a huge fight broke out, punches thrown, weaves pulled, grown men in tears from being hit too hard (and by grown men I mean Jacques. Freaking crybaby.) Within twenty minutes, however, it was all over. The wallet was gone, and no one had any possible idea where it could have gotten to. In fact, it took Amy, nursing a black eye that Kitty had given her, to notice a certain cop smiling in a very unsettling way for everyone to stare at the oddly happy MacArthur.

"…MacArthur?" Brody dared to speak up. "Do you, uh…"

"Know where the wallet is? Affirmative."

"Well, where is it?" Topher demanded, and others murmured their agreement. MacArthur merely chuckled, making everyone gulp.

"I think you all already know the answer to that one."

And if you _don't_ know the answer to that one, dear reader, I have four words for you: you don't wanna know. The people in the Playa knew, however. And they were all disgusted beyond belief. Well, almost everyone.

"Oh puh-leeze! Are y'all really gonna let something like that ruin your chance at a wallet?" Sugar laughed, as if where the cadet had stashed the wallet was nothing to her.

"Well if it doesn't bug you so much, why not take it?" Justin asked.

"Ha! As if I would steal from my own partner!"

"WHAT?!"

MacArthur put an arm around Sugar. "You heard right folks! Pageant Princess over here and I came up with this plan from the very start! We both had the same idea of getting our hands on the wallet and hiding it where no one would ever wanna look, and then decided, why not call a truce before things get ugly?"

"Yeah, if we were to be fighting each other, this competition would be more grueling than two insomniacs in a staying awake contest!" Sugar clapped her teamie on the back. "So…anyone wanna venture where the sun don't shine and get that there wallet?

No one was depraved enough to bother trying. One by one, everyone went to bed, some crestfallen, others furious, and a few more than grossed out by the whole situation. When morning came, and for the whole day, everyone was pretty much very unhappy. No couples made out. No jocks worked out. No video games were played. Everyone was too upset over losing the wallet to the two grossest characters on the show. In fact, once six pm rolled along everyone was glad to get this over with and go back to normal.

Of course, however, that meant having to listen to Chef berate them. He had gotten the details of the day, from who the wallet went to, to how it ended up with the two girls, to _where_ it ended up ("Y'all nasty..." was all he could say, after a few seconds of shocked silence). And the way he silently glared at everyone, they all knew they were royally screwed.

Meeting Chef by the pool, everyone glared at Sugar and MacArthur as they proudly strode to the center of the crowd, wallet visible in MacArthur's hand. Chef looked over the crowd, shaking his head in a deep disapproval. "I expected more from all of you! You kids are from Total Drama! This whole damn show makes Cutthroat Kitchen look like a tea party!"

He pointed at Eva. "You should've been at these girls' throats!" Eva grumbled and looked away, crossing her arms.

He pointed at Scarlett. "Really? You almost blow up an island, but get taken out by an emo and a door?! Pathetic!" Scarlett scoffed, but still turned a shade that matched her name, ashamed in how lame her defeat was…and to Dave of all people. Dave!

He pointed at Heather and Alejandro. "The wallet didn't even get to you two once! You're the sneakiest snakes in this place, and you were too busy making out to even _get_ the wallet!" Alejandro hung his head in shame, Heather seethed quietly, glaring at the girls who had bested her. It was like getting taken down by both Rebel Wilson and Melissa McCarthy simultaneously, and to a queen bee like Heather that was just embarrassing.

"And all of you!" Chef glared at each and every person out there, who all looked down or away, or shifted nervously. "There is no drama! No hatred! I wanted y'all to be passionate about this! There were literally five hours where the wallet just sat in the basement while the Goth kids played their freaky devil music-it was just sitting there! Just, right there! Y'all disgust me! I wanted more! But noooooooo, you all had to go off on a trip to Namby-Pamby Land, and play nice! I give you a chance to beat down Chris McLean, and y'all squander it like a bunch of wusses! You. Make. Me. _SICK!_ "

Chef was about to yell even more, but he was cut off by slow, borderline sarcastic clapping. He turned, finding none other than Chris McLean standing there, Dave by his side (though Dave was wearing his hood and glaring at everyone like the emo he was). For whatever reason, Chris was actually smiling, and that made everyone, even Chef himself, feel very uneasy.

"Congratulations, Chef," Chris said, walking to his crony. "You passed the test."

"…what."

Chris laughed. "Oh, you poor, beautiful fool. I had this all set up right from the start. You see, Chef, I was getting worried about you. I was starting to think you were getting a bit soft. Not ready for the upcoming seasons. So I said to myself, 'Chris, you handsome and talented son of a gun, how can you possibly motivate Chef to get back to your level? The answer? Money. It was simple enough to get you angry at me. Just withholding a few paychecks-here you go by the way."

Chris pulled something out of his back pocket, and Emma gasped. "Hold on! That's-"

"My wallet? Sure is, dude!" Sure enough, it was Chris' wallet, black leather and fat from the cash he stored in it daily.

Sugar snatched the wallet from MacArthur and opened it, mouth falling open in shock as she pulled the bills out of it. "Hey! These ain't real monies! They're Monopoly dollars!"

"Hold up…" Chef stared at Chris, eyes wide as his mind started putting things together. "You knew I was gonna do this?!"

Chris shook his head smugly. "Oh my ignorant aide, I _planned_ this! Do you remember the movies we watched the past three Movie Night Mondays?"

"Nine to Five, Tower Heist, Now You See Me…but what do they have to do with- _oh._ "

"Yah. I needed to get the idea in your head for revenge. So I made sure to show you revenge on boss movies, and made sure my wallet was almost always in sight when we were together."

Chef remembered yesterday, Chris clamping his hand down on the wallet; two days ago, Chris tossing his wallet up and down idly as if it were a baseball; three days ago, Chris fiddling with it for almost an hour straight; every day for the past two weeks, where he was messing with it somehow…

"So, I put my actual wallet somewhere safe-my safe, to be exact-which isn't even here by the way, so none of you get any ideas, _Izzy_ -and had the fake one ready for this. Sure, I got injured, and got tied up by Goths, and had to spend part of my life in the same room as Dave-"

"Hey!" Dave snapped. "I'm right here, you know!"

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, I needed to make sure you were desperate for drama, Chef. And seeing you yell at these losers, well…oh crap." Chris sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye. "I knew you had it in you." The host pulled out some checks, as well as a nice fat stack of money. "Here, dude. Your checks, and a bonus. Keep up the good work."

Chef stared at the money, and there was an awkward silence. Until MacArthur spoke up. "So, uh, what do we get?"

"You get lucky that I don't make you drop and give me twenty!" Chef snapped, suddenly back to his old self. "And y'all better watch it, or you all get a night in solitary! You hear me, turkeys?!" Chris nodded approvingly as Chef pocketed his prize. "Well, I'm off to the bank."

"And I'm off to the massage parlor," Chris said. "Being tied to Dave for so long, his backbone poked into me so much!"

"I am still right he-eeeee!" Chef cut Dave short as he shoved him into the pool like it was nothing, and Chris made a mental note to give Chef an extra $50 for that.

After that interesting turn of events, everyone left to go do whatever with the rest of this pretty much wasted day, until only MacArthur was left staring into the sunset. Brody took the chance to talk to her.

"Hey…sorry you lost out on the money, dude…your plan was stellar by the way."

"Eh, all in a day's work. At least I got a cool wallet out of it. Welp, back to your hiding place you go, little guy." MacArthur took off her hat and set the wallet on her head before putting the hat back on, noticing Brody staring at her funny. "Can I help you?"

"Uh…so you had the wallet in your hat the whole time?"

"Psh, yeah! Touching an officer's hat is a federal crime! Or at least it will be, when I get a hold of the law books...you didn't hear that!" She narrowed her eyes. "Where did you think I hid it, anyway?"

Brody laughed nervously. "Uh, well….you see, I…ooh hey, wanna have a root beer chugging contest?"

"Do I?!" MacArthur took off for the Playa, Brody following behind. And they all lived happily ever after….except for that one Adversity Twin. That kid really needs to see a doctor.


End file.
